


Unconscious

by HotGoatCheese



Series: Whumptober 2019 [10]
Category: Once Upon a Time (In Space) - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, ends justify means, non-consensual sleep aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotGoatCheese/pseuds/HotGoatCheese
Summary: Rose encounters Brian while wandering The Aurora, and he can tell she isn't feeling well. It isn't hard to figure out why, or to realize what must be done about it.





	Unconscious

The ship that had rescued Rose was massive, and she felt entitled to a certain amount of exploration. The slightly manic man who'd been the first person she'd seen upon waking had advised her to do so at her own risk and she'd taken that to heart. In that she was risking explorations. So far though, she'd encountered nothing worth the caution he had grinningly advised and was beginning to suspect it'd been a lie.

That was a disappointment, as Rose was itching for something, anything to happen. Almost literally itching. Her skin crawled each time she turned a corner. Vision threatening to swim at the edges as she walked, and walked. Not knowing if she'd been through any given corridor before or caring to follow the scent of burning she would catch every now or then. 

She'd captured cities, castles, even other ships with more confusing layouts than this, and done so often. So why was she having such difficulty retaining the passages of this simple vessel? It wasn't like she'd even gone far from the temporary quarters they'd given her until the last days of the revolution finished playing out below. Why did every step feel like she was going nowhere and she could only escape by leaving her skin, her body, every piece of her that King Cole had infected and used for his protection had to be shed before she could truly understand anything again. 

Which was a really, really bad way to think, Rose knew. Thoughts like that would lead to poor reaction time if something on this ship really was interested in carving her up; and who knows how rusty her reaction time already was? Maybe she ought to find someone to spar with. That might feel good, sparring. Of course with that odd...swimming/not swimming thing happening at the edges of her vision that might not be the best idea either. 

That was the last coherent thought she had before she heard the music. It wasn't a lot of music, just some gentle strumming, a soft twang that echoed only a little through the hall. Rose was tempted to just avoid it. It'd be easy enough, the hall continued straight forward, the music coming from around a bend. 

Instead she followed it, curiously seeking out its source. It didn't take her long, as the gentle, plucky sounds were coming from nearby and it was only a moment or two before she'd reached its source. 

The man sitting at the table had a pair of goggles resting over the brim of his hat, and a guitar leaning against the table next to him as he strummed at a banjo with a contemplative expression. He didn't notice Rose at first, and she didn't make any move toward him. Despite her stillness, he startled a moment later, noticing her for the first time. "Oh! Hello!" he greeted. Then he paused and glanced around the room. Rose followed his lead, checking her surroundings. 

The table sat eight. Three chairs on either side and one at each end. There was a notable bloodstain on three out of four corners. Each of them looked to be years old at this point. The one closest to the door had to have been there at least a decade. The table was uncluttered, and seemed largely unused. There was a counter off to one side of the room with cupboards above and below it and a sink built into it. The room was otherwise empty. Rose had no idea what it was for. She returned her gaze to the man at the table, who looked back at her at about the same moment. "Hello." she greeted in return.

"Briar Rose, was it?" 

"Just Rose is fine." Rose snapped

The man winced. "Right. Apologies." He hesitated. Then "They call me Drumbot Brian, but ah, Just Brian is fine." He gestured to the counter and "Would you like something to drink?" 

"A drink?" Rose echoed. 

Brian seemed lost for a moment, then "Yes, there are...drinks...in the cupboards. I'm not sure we've restocked the whiskey in this room yet but there's plenty of tea. I could put the kettle on for you. Or...I don't even know what all we have up there, actually." 

Rose attempted to give it a moments consideration, and found that the question would not take hold in her mind. For some reason the idea of having something to drink seemed completely alien to her. It wasn't, she knew, because she didn't eat or drink or any horrific side effect of being some less than human experiment grown in a lab by a mad warmonger, she'd had at least three meals since waking. Something about the concept just failed to connect. The concept of sitting down, on the other hand, connected nicely, and instead Rose pulled a chair back from the table and had a seat opposite the man. A beat later she acknowledged his kindness with a dismissive "I'm fine, thanks." 

"Alright then." Brian responded. Then he hesitated. 

It took Rose a moment to realize that she had just walked in on a man playing music by himself and taken a seat across from him without a word. "Sorry." she blurted out. "I'm- very sorry I..." she moved as if to stand, hands flat on the table, and felt abruptly lightheaded. She made as if to push through it, but under the concerned gaze of this virtual stranger, found she could not. 

Rose sank back into her seat. The man shifted slightly in his seat, fingers worrying soundlessly at the strings of his banjo as he studied her. "No it's -" he cut off, then "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine." she echoed.

"Ah." he answered, and turned his head in consideration.

Now Rose looked at him, unable to read the question in his eyes. "What?" she demanded, bluntly.

"Oh it's just -" he started, then hesitated. "Not to accuse you of dishonesty but...you're obviously unwell." He paused briefly, then "I thought I could identify the problem and help you with it without forcing a confrontation but - well..." he shrugged slightly and strummed a short series of cords on his banjo as a bit of a grin started on his face. Then he stopped abruptly and smiled at her. "That's clearly not going to work, so, I'll simply - offer any aid I can?" 

Rose couldn't help the slight smile that started on her face. A moment later she realized it might be her first since waking. The moment after that she realized it could well be her very first, from a certain point of view. Not hers though. "You're kind." she said.

"I try." he answered.

She sighed, and did her best to explain. The inexplicable disorientation. The lightheadedness just now. The strangeness at the corners of her vision. She even did her best to describe that sensation of needing to claw out of her skin and escape herself. Brian's face was a mask of concern throughout her explanation. When she was finished, he nodded, and then asked simply "Have you slept since we rescued you?" 

Roses' blood went cold. "What?" she demanded. 

Brian held up his hands in submission. "Hear me out." he plead. "It's been nearly five days since we rescued you. All signs point to you being largely, if not entirely, a normal, mortal, human being. Which means you have certain needs. water, sleep, and food paramount among them in...roughly that order." 

"I'm not going back to sleep." Rose stated. Without thought, without room for argument.

Brian blinked at her. "Well, you'll have to. Eventually." 

Rose didn't care about the lightheadedness this time. She didn't care about anything but not hearing this. Hands flat on the table she pushed herself up, pushed the chair back neatly with her legs, and turned to walk out of the room. 

There was a flurry of motion, and instinct told her to turn and see what it was. So she had just enough time to spot Brian rushing toward her with a cloth in his hand and raise an arm to defend. Her instinct was impaired though, and the significance of the cloth in his hand was lost on her until he skirted her hand with a yelp and slid behind her, wrapping an arm around her and securing the cloth against her mouth and nose with the spread of his hand. 

Rose recognized the smell instantly.

"I'm so sorry." she could hear Brian say, even as the world became distant. The consciousness Rose has clawed her way into started to fade and she struggled, driving an elbow back at Brian but he was too far to one side and she only fell hard against his body. He shifted to support her, and wrapped his other arm around her body to secure her arm at her side. "I hate to do this to you, believe me. I can't imagine being forced unconscious again." There was something in his voice, something jagged and painful and Rose leaned into it with a cry that only pulled more of the dank chemical into her lungs and fogged her world farther. 

Her eyes drifted closed, and it was only Brian's voice. "I doubt anyone knows how hard this is for you better than me. If you ever forgive me for this I'll tell you about it, gladly, as a start of repayment. But you're still mortal, Rose. In spite of everything you're human and you need. Sleep. So I'm sorry, but I won't let you suffer until you go unconscious in the hall somewhere, or worse." There was a slight shift in reality, a mild vertigo. Rose would guess Brian had picked her up. 

The last thing she heard was "I'm taking you to bed now." 

Then Briar Rose fell, again, unconscious.


End file.
